


McKinley Prompts

by PitsOfDisclaire



Series: Claire's McPriceley [3]
Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-21 09:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitsOfDisclaire/pseuds/PitsOfDisclaire
Summary: Small fics based off prompts sent to my blog McKinley-Asks





	1. A Fading Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: A Fading Memory aka Connor's first day in Uganda

Though it's been almost four years now, I'll never forget how it felt when I first arrived in Kitguli, Uganda. The air was hot as it fluttered between my companion and I, we could even see the heat waves rising from the ground. Beads of sweat were already rolling down our faces as we made way into the remote village. Our new home was only inches away, it'd house us for the next two years of our lives. It felt as if butterflies were dancing through my heart and stomach, whisking me away to my new life.

As we trod down the dry, flaky roads we began to spot the faces of the villagers. It's funny to think that back then they were strangers, I didn't even know their names. Now I could describe each of them and tell you their whole life story. There was one girl who had her bushy hair tied back with the odd curl sticking out. She bounced a ball between her feet, hopping back and forth with a face of pure concentration. Her tongue stuck out a little and her brows furrowed. Sadaka is her name. She ended up becoming one of my closest friends. I still write to her and skype her when I can. The internet there still isn't the best and they only have a clunky webcam but we make it work.

We finally found Mafala sitting in the makeshift square of the village with his daughter. Her name is Nabulungi, another one of my closest friends. My companion and I clicked with her right away, which was most likely because she was the same age as us. She was young yet growing in the same way that we were. To this day she still grows with us, in fact she doesn't live too far from me. She still has the same glistening smile that I saw on that very first day. Her hair still bounces in that adorable bushy afro she has and her eyes are still the deepest shade of brown. Her father had those same eyes with the same twinkle in them. With strong hands he grabbed ours and shook them, one after another as he laughed to himself. He welcomed us, showing us around his homeplace and inviting us into his life. He introduced us to all the villagers and taught us phrases as we made our way to the Mission Hut. 'Hasa Diga Eebowai' has become a crucial piece of my vocabulary.

Though it was more house than hut, the Mission Hut was falling apart when we arrived. Paint was peeling off, there were a few broken windows and it looked as if one gust of wind would blow the roof right off. I miss that place daily. There was a damp smell that accompanied the weak frame of the hut. It smelt as if a pipe had sprung a leak and old, murky water had been dripping onto a moldy carpet. Except of course, no one knew where this leak was and so no one was able to stop it. No one ever quite got used to the stench, turning up their noses every time they entered the hut, but it was home to us all. 

When we arrived the district leader at the time welcomed us with warm, open arms. His name was Elder Harte and he had a mop of mousy brown hair and faded grey eyes. His companion was Elder Peters whose eyes were as dark as his hair and freckles spread across his cheeks. I actually found them both cute, until they soon proved to be intimidating and too carefree. I had no idea that in about two months I'd be in their position. The duo introduced us to the current missionaries, most of whom I don't remember at all. 

We were soon carried away to see our rooms for the first time. I miss the dull blue walls and the hard wooden floors. Part of me is always tempted to style my room to be like how it was in Uganda. But I've become too used to not having broken windows. The gigantic crack that ran straight down the middle of our old bedroom window let in a cool breeze and odd beams of light. They almost seemed magical at the time. Yet it was also perfect entry for small bugs and flies. I took in a deep breath as I passed into the new room and my companion began to unpack his bags. I wanted to savour the moment, I wanted to remember the smell, the view, how it felt- everything.

The twisted springs of the bed screeched as I settled in for the night. I memorised the shadows of that room, seeing them over and over again had them burned into my memory. The first night they didn't scare me, they seemed so welcoming then. The bed sheets felt like sheets of paper and the covers released clouds of dust everytime they moved. The pillows were far too stiff to get comfortable but I preferred that bed to the one I grew up in back home. Though I tossed and turned almost every single night I felt so much safer than I ever did in my home in America. The walls of that room were both terrifying and comforting. I spent hours staring at them, willing myself back to sleep. But the first night I slept peacefully. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

The memory of my first day is faded and rough around the edges. I can't remember exactly how everything felt for the first time. Some things became second nature to me as the months flew past. I cling onto that memory with all of my heart, praying that it will never ever leave me. I know that the other former missionaries do the same. 

It's been almost four years now but I miss my home.


	2. His First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompts a memory of love and a memory of childhood

Louisiana summers were always the same; hot and humid. During the days the sun hung high in the cloudless sky, giving a golden glow to their small part of the world. The sky was a vibrant blue and the grass was lush and green. On days like this where there wasn't even a slight breeze to keep them cool, Connor and his best friend Steve would spend the day in their little treehouse.

They had built it themselves, with the occasional help from their parents. Old and broken planks of wood overlapped to make their small little tree house beside a little lake. On the floor was a rug that had become quite tattered over the years. What used to be the bright red rug that covered most of the door was almost brown with mud and dust. They had two pillows that suffered the same fate as the rug. The two boys used those as seats as splinters and nails came protruding out from the floorboards. The tree house had one big window and a doorway. They both let in heaps of sunlight as they were merely large, rectangular holes in the walls. Despite the sunlight most of the interior was covered by shadow, meaning that it was cool and damp. It was the perfect getaway for two boys on a hot summer day.

I can't exactly recall what we were talking about before the incident. We talkedabout the same things all 14 year olds did. We complained about school, helped each other with homework, I would groan over how annoying my sisters were, Steve would go on and on about how aggravating his older brother was or we'd gossip about whatever was topical at the time. We were just ordinairy kids. Why wouldn't we be?

I of course had my secrets, ones that hid as muddled shapes in the dark depths of my mind. I could choose to explore them if I wished, but I knew that would also be going against everything I had learned. So I kept the light in my head off, just like I had been told. I never dared to find out what those secrets truly were and for a while, I was fine with that.

Steve had secrets too. Everyone does, that's just the way of life. I never thought that they'd be taking similar shape as mine. In the days leading up to the incident I noticed a shift within Steve’s demeanor. It wasn't anything major, but being his best friend I noticed. The air that surrounded him felt tense and cold, even though it was the middle of Summer. He hung onto words seconds too long and he picked up mannerisms he never had. He did this thing where as he spoke he'd rub his palms together, using almost all of his strength. He began to stutter and go back on words as if he changed his mind mid sentence. That wasn't the Steve I knew. The Steve I knew was headstrong and a little stubborn, he always knew what he wanted and though he was polite he'd stop at nothing to get it.

He never gave up.

We had settled into silence and we were sitting side by side on the ground. We moved the pillows next to the wall and we were leaning up against it, staring out the window. I think I mentioned how blue the sky was and he mentioned how blue my eyes were. I turned around to face him. My cheeks were bright pink and I was trying to find a proper reply. His face was tightened and his brows were furrowed. I recognised that look of determination anywhere. He took shaky breaths and before I knew it I could feel his breathing on my lips. Suddenly his eyes fluttered shut and he was pulling me so unbeliveably close.

I didn't fight or try to run.

My eyes were wide but I wished they were closed, I heard it's better that way.

I couldn't think a single coherent thought; my brain was fried and my mind was frazzled.

All I knew was that a cute was kissing me. 

My bestfried who was a boy was kissing me and I was soon returning the kiss.

I had no idea what was going to happen next. I was so young and innocent, my little head couldn't comprehend how absoloulty fucked my world had just become. I knew what I was told in church, I knew that people would think this was wrong. This was the heaven that I was told I'd never have. They say ignorance is bliss, but I think they're wrong. Ignorance is safe, but knowing is freedom.


End file.
